There are plenty of reasons to be circumspect -- even reticent -- about the baptism scheduled for tomorrow. For one thing, it's single-digit cold outside and the thought of stepping down into a tank of water in the midst of a chilly Saturday-morning sanctuary isn't all that appealing. I don't think we'll have to break through any ice, but I hope the Lord doesn't mind a little goose-pimpled flesh.
For another thing, I don't know this man. He comes to my ministrations by way of a retired colleague who met the man in the hospital -- which brings up the other little piece of this scenario. The man is dying. My understanding is that dusk is settling in on life as he has known it, which is to say that while this isn't quite literally a deathbed conversion...it's close.
Who am I to judge? And the truth is, I don't. While the thought of a leisurely Saturday morning curled up by the fire with a book is alluring, I have coated up and warmed up the car for far less. And ultimately I'm simply not in the business of turning down baptisms. It's not that I believe the dunking is magic. I trust that God's grace is expansive enough to welcome home a repentant and reconciled soul whether or not it has passed through the requisite volume of water. It's just that I value any occasion that brings someone into deep and conscious reflection about the meaning of life, the experience of love, and the glorious awe of eternity.
And if it takes the nearness of death, so be it. While I might choreograph it all a different way, this is the way it is happening. And so, in the name of God our heritage, our help and our hope, I'll descend with him into the water and offer us both into the waiting arms that are, if nothing else, grace.
Welcome, then, my new friend whom I haven't yet met, not to death...
...but to life.
For another thing, I don't know this man. He comes to my ministrations by way of a retired colleague who met the man in the hospital -- which brings up the other little piece of this scenario. The man is dying. My understanding is that dusk is settling in on life as he has known it, which is to say that while this isn't quite literally a deathbed conversion...it's close.
Who am I to judge? And the truth is, I don't. While the thought of a leisurely Saturday morning curled up by the fire with a book is alluring, I have coated up and warmed up the car for far less. And ultimately I'm simply not in the business of turning down baptisms. It's not that I believe the dunking is magic. I trust that God's grace is expansive enough to welcome home a repentant and reconciled soul whether or not it has passed through the requisite volume of water. It's just that I value any occasion that brings someone into deep and conscious reflection about the meaning of life, the experience of love, and the glorious awe of eternity.
And if it takes the nearness of death, so be it. While I might choreograph it all a different way, this is the way it is happening. And so, in the name of God our heritage, our help and our hope, I'll descend with him into the water and offer us both into the waiting arms that are, if nothing else, grace.
Welcome, then, my new friend whom I haven't yet met, not to death...
...but to life.
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